


Debauchery's Sway

by Laylah



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Come Inflation, Held Down, Involuntary Arousal, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Woken up by sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: Gran wakes up to another visit from Belial. It's not business this time.
Relationships: Belial/Gran (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 184
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2020





	Debauchery's Sway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Welsper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/gifts).



Gran is back in the white empty space: dreaming. He looks around for the primarch who must have summoned him, wondering which one it is this time, wondering what they want. He hasn't managed to improve any of their holy weapons recently, which is usually what makes one of them show up.

He hears a voice, just a low murmur in the distance—it's faintly familiar but unclear, like a sound he's hearing underwater. He turns toward it anyway, but nobody seems to be there. Gran frowns at the emptiness. Why is he here?

Something hot moves against the nape of his neck, like a breeze coming off a bonfire. He swats at it but there's still nothing there.

Even when he calls out, he gets no response. He feels strange and lost, uncertain of his footing. And if there isn't even a primarch here waiting to challenge him, why stay here?

Gran closes his eyes, trying to will himself out of that weird space and back to the real world. Sensation comes back, weight and place and touch, and when he opens his eyes it's to darkness. It's not his room, though; it's a remote forest altar, mossy stone under his hands, vines twining around his limbs so he can't kick out against the shadows that push and pull at him. The wind through the trees sounds like a voice, coaxing and hungry.

And even though it's a creepy dream, it's turning into _that_ kind of dream, too. He's getting kind of hard, even though there's a weight on his lungs and a weird, embarrassing pressure in his ass. He tries to struggle but it's like pushing through mud, every movement slow and clumsy and he can't get up but at least the moss cushions the stone enough that it's not uncomfortable. He squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to focus, and that makes the pressure more intense, and the heat on his nape, and he can smell the familiar scents of his bedroom, linens and oiled lumber and—

"Not bad, Singularity," Belial murmurs, behind him, on top of him. "Most mortals would have been lost in that dream until I decided to let 'em out."

Gran's face is pressed into the pillow, his clothes entirely gone, and that pressure he felt before is Belial's _cock_. That creep stripped him while he was sleeping and spread his legs and started _fucking him_ before he could wake up. He makes an outraged noise and struggles, trying to get some leverage to push Belial off.

"Mmm, _nice_ ," Belial croons, shifting with him so he can't get free. "You were so soft and easy before, opening up for all of me, but it's real hot how tight you get when you're fighting it, too."

"Stop it," Gran bites out. It doesn't exactly hurt but it's uncomfortable and weird and it's Belial, who's a creep, and if Gran did want this with someone it wouldn't be him.

"Nah." Belial's nasty clawed hands clamp down on Gran's wrists, spreading his arms wide so he can't get them under himself and push. "Feels way too good, and you know it. You can't tell me you've never wanted to get speared by a nice thick shaft."

"Not yours," Gran says. He chokes on the words a little when Belial rolls his hips, making his cock move in this slow, dragging grind that makes Gran's nerves crackle.

Belial laughs, soft and hot and awful. "I'm just breaking you in," he says. "Next boyfriend you get will be glad you had someone to loosen you up a little."

Gran struggles, trying to get an arm free so he can elbow Belial in the ribs, but the bastard is inhumanly strong and has him at such a bad angle. All he's managing to do is fuck himself on Belial's cock, and then it's hard to ignore how it feels. He really needs this to stop and he's not going to be able to get away by himself. He takes a deep breath.

"Nobody likes a screamer," Belial tells him. The purr in his voice is a threat this time. "If you bring your little friends in here, I'm not going to be able to hold back."

The cry for help dies in Gran's throat. He can get through this on his own if he has to—Belial seems to _like_ him, in some awful way, or he wouldn't have a half-built scythe on his desk waiting for an infusion of rare stones to power it up. But that dubious affection doesn't extend to his crew, and he would never forgive himself if any of them got hurt—or worse—trying to protect him from this creep.

"There you go," Belial says. "You can keep struggling, that was hot. I just don't want anybody getting between us when we're getting along so well." He punctuates that last part with a hard thrust, enough to force an incoherent noise out of Gran's mouth.

"What do you want?"

"To have a good time with you," Belial says, that fake-friendly tone like he thought it was obvious. "Or in you. All over you. I'm not that picky."

"You're gross," Gran says.

Belial's teeth graze the nape of his neck, a friendly threat from a half-tame monster. "You're into it."

Gran shakes his head. Belial lets go of his off hand and reaches down under his body instead, wrapping hot, dry fingers around his cock. It's painfully embarrassing to realize he's still hard from the dream. It has to be from the dream, and not from having Belial in him like this, from that heat and strange pressure where it feels like nobody should even be able to touch him.

"If you let yourself get into it instead of playing protesting damsel, I'm pretty sure we'd both find this more satisfying." Belial's hand twists, fingers playing over Gran's shaft, and it shouldn't—doesn't—feel good, but it's unfamiliar and intense and maybe for his body that's close enough.

He doesn't realize he's rocking his hips until Belial stops moving suddenly, so all the friction is coming from his own movements. Gran freezes immediately, but not fast enough to keep Belial from catching him at it and laughing triumphantly.

"See? Not so bad, once you get used to it."

"If I play along, will you stop talking?" Gran asks.

Belial chuckles. "However you like it, Singularity."

It's like a mission, Gran tells himself. Just something he has to do to keep Belial satisfied so he can get his hands on a weapon that will get him closer to his real goal. It doesn't matter that it feels weirdly good and it doesn't matter that he doesn't want it to. He curls his fingers in the sheets and rocks his hips, pushing forward into Belial's hand—that's easier than making himself push back, even if being stretched open around a cock makes him want to squirm.

But once he's moving again Belial starts to match him, thrusting deep, one hand curled around his cock and the other holding bruise-tight to his wrist. Even the scrape of teeth against his nape feels better than he wants it to. It's _almost_ like he imagined, except for knowing who it is filling him up and how much nastiness—

No, he's not thinking about that, he's staying focused on the parts that help. The friction, the heat, the way being filled up is just this side of uncomfortable and he kinda likes it. He's making little noises without really meaning to, sort of _hhn hhn ahn_ into the pillow, picking up speed as he gets fucked faster. Belial hums in response, sucking on his nape, his sharp teeth digging in and the little pinpricks of pain just making Gran's nerves sing.

He was already turned on, already halfway there, when he woke up—and _not_ thinking about the way that knowledge makes things clench up low in his gut—and now that Belial isn't messing with him, the need is building fast. He tenses, breath stuttering, pushing into the clawed hand around his cock.

"Yessss." Belial's teeth are still pressed to Gran's skin but his voice echoes in Gran's mind all the same. "Desire is the force that moves all things. Let it overwhelm you."

Gran wants to argue if only for the sake of _not doing what he's told_ , but it's too late and he's too close and seconds later he's coming, his cock throbbing and his ass clenching around the thick shaft buried in it. He comes and comes and can't _stop_ , pleasure tipping over into discomfort, until he's shoving his free hand down to grab Belial's wrist and pull him away.

Belial lets his cock go, muffling a laugh against his skin, but doesn't stop fucking him. It aches, too much, but he feels wobbly and relaxed in the wake of orgasm and if he couldn't fight before he definitely can't now. He rides it out, letting the discomfort wash over him, trying to think about how this is a deal and he's getting power out of it, not how the discomfort is kind of enjoyable too in a really weird way.

And eventually it ends, because even a primal doesn't last forever. Belial pushes in as deep as he can, his whole body tensing over Gran's, and his cock starts to pulse—not just a couple of times but repeatedly, pumping alien heat deep into Gran's ass until it makes him feel swollen and over-full. He's starting to squirm reflexively, trying to pull away from that too-full feeling.

Belial stops at last, stroking an almost-gentle, possessive hand down Gran's side. "Very nice, Singularity." He kisses the tender spot he's just bitten. "It's exciting to be filled with new potential, isn't it?"

"You're _so_ gross," Gran says.

Belial laughs, because he always seems to think it's funny when Gran is honest about how awful he is. He pulls out slowly and smacks Gran's ass as he rolls away. "You'll get used to it."

Gran rolls onto his side, clenching up when he feels the fluid inside him threaten to trickle back out. Belial is somehow completely dressed and looks like nothing has happened. Must be nice, having primal magic. "Are you done?"

"Couldn't you feel it?" Belial asks with a grin, and Gran rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm satisfied for now. I hope you are, too." He disappears in a plume of red-black smoke before Gran can say anything else.

The sheets are gross. Being bloated with primal come is pretty gross. Gran's going to have to find a way to get cleaned up without drawing anyone's attention.

The scythe that Belial gave him waits on the desk, gleaming darkly in the starlight that comes through the porthole. Half complete. Already a promise of power.

It better be worth it.


End file.
